


Warning Sign

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: A bit of past-building, Descriptions of battle, Emotionally Compromised idiots, Explicit Sexual Content, Hints of Bagginshield, Knife Talk, M/M, Mild Gore, Porcupines, Rating Change, Stubborn Dwarves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-30 01:23:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3917974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What are you going to do? Cuff me and bring me to the king? He’s busy at the moment,” Nori answers. Fíli didn’t fail to notice the thief eyeing him up and down with a lascivious glint in his grey eyes, and a lick of fire came to life in the pit of his stomach at the prying attention. </p><p>“No,” Fíli says, swallowing thickly and ignoring the flare that grew hotter in him.</p><p>He was only meaning to find some privacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _I’ll use you as a makeshift gauge_  
>  _Of how much to give and how much to take_  
>  _I’ll use you as a warning sign_  
>  _That if you talk enough sense then you’ll lose your mind_  
>  _I found love where it wasn’t supposed to be_  
>  _Right in front of me_  
>  _Talk some sense to me_  
>  I Found - Amber Run
> 
> You could consider the beginning to be very mild dub-con, but I'm not entirely sure how others would feel about it, because both parties are consenting. Also, there is a mention of cutting a wrist, not with harmful intent, but it can squick some people. Thanks for reading!

Fíli yawns, shaking the mild buzz from his head. He finishes his third goblet of the elvish wine Elrond had provided for them during their stay—not necessarily ‘provided’, as Nori and Glòin had went to take another barrel after their entertaining supper, but the stores were there and unguarded at the late hour so it was available to them. It was broken open when they started taking apart chair legs and table drawers for a fire in the common area of their suites, roasting some of their pilfered sausages, and it was all quite good for elvish make. There were not any qualms among them for charring the floors or hanging up their dirty clothes to air out, and they all sang in boisterous song as the drink started catching up with them. 

Fíli lifts his arms above his head and stretches, and when he stands he cracks his back, aching from sitting on the floor at the foot of Kíli’s bench. He pockets his pipe and announces he’s going to the privy but it goes unnoticed as Bofur and Òin start another jaunty tune that has Ori and Bifur clapping along and Dwalin playing his fiddle. No one notices he’s gone by the time he rounds the corner, disappearing to the balconies. 

He thinks it would be a funny idea to piss off the overlook into the valley below in his buzzed state, and does so over the waterfalls with a lopsided snigger. He laughs to himself and laces his trousers back up before going to the railing and leaning on it, gazing into the Valley of Imladris below. There’s a unique calm and solitude to this place Fíli had not yet known until this morning, and wonders how Thorin and Dwalin and the others could find this place so threatening when it was so obviously unassuming. The flowing, curling architecture was hardly intimidating, and although it was inhabited by a flock of elves, they hardly spoke and all looked like women anyway. He had grown up in the Blue Mountains all his life and knew the majesty of Middle-earth quite well, but this valley was unlike any place he had seen, and he found it actually very beautiful, and the elves had worked their home into the natural beauty so effortlessly, it was masterful. But Fíli never said any of this aloud. 

He is hesitant to return to the group because he has finally found a measure of privacy to himself, and it had been so hard to find any on his way here, with looking after Kíli and taking Thorin’s orders obediently. And running from wargs and orcs and trying not to get roasted by trolls. Looking back, he found it all so trivial, like it was a breeze in the trees, but he sighed in relief all the same. As one of the more skilled warriors of the Company, he was obliged to look after them and make sure they were all safe, but it was no easy task, so now when he could find a bit of quiet, he was grateful. Fíli had never been able to linger around groups of dwarves for long before wanting to steal away, the mindless chatter often exhausting his mentality.

So, he breathes a heavy and contented sigh, taking his pipe out and filling it with the pipe-weed he had traded with Bilbo, because it was almost better than the weed he had grown accustomed to in the Blue Mountains. Bilbo had bragged about it slightly, telling a bit of history on the cultivation and drying of specific pipe-weed plants, and how the Men and Dwarves in Bree had praised the Shire hobbits for their product. To Fíli, it sounded like another of Balin’s boring history lectures from his youth, so he had mostly tuned it out, but Bilbo was a decent story-teller when he had a good one to tell. He puffs happily for a while, letting his thoughts meander amongst the rivers and creeks below, through the trees in the valley and the crags in the cliffs. He thought about the quest, Erebor, Smaug, his mother at home and the friends he had left behind. He ignores the ache in his heart for his childhood home and his mother’s food and soft but calloused touch, remembering that he had to be a prince to his people, and just as swiftly a heavy feeling weighed in his gut. It was still strange to think that he would be royalty in a few months time if all went well, living on Thorin’s grand tales of the Lonely Mountain and hoping against all practicalities that they would succeed. He tries to think of the stories he heard as a boy and tells himself he’s a part of one now to reclaim his lost ancestral home, but no one ever said how frightening that could be. 

Just as he begins to pack another pipe he hears quiet whistling somewhere along the marbled balconies and green terraces. He recognizes the tune from Bofur’s song at supper and deems it couldn’t have been an elf. It was coming from the opposite direction of the group, so with a growing curiosity, Fíli replaces his pipe-weed pouch into his jerkin pocket and puts his pipe away before wandering in the direction of the song. 

He turns a few corners and down a short flight of lamp-lit stairs to a small terrace with a smaller fountain than the one they had swam in earlier, bushes flowering and vines crawling across the odd statues. Far on the other side, facing the valley, he sees a shadowed form in the moon light sitting on a bench in a circle of pillars, vines and flowering things draped across the top like a thin canopy. The song changes to one of Bilbo’s walking songs and the figure raises what they held in their hand and inspecting, which frankly looks like one of the candelabras that were in their rooms, but without the candles in the holders. 

Then, the figure adjusts and Fíli catches their silhouette, instantly recognizing the shape of their hairstyle. It was a distinct style for its oddity and noticeable from a mile away. With Nori holding a candelabras by himself out here, Fíli quickly became suspicious. He didn’t have a good impression of the middle ‘Ri in the first place, hearing from Dwalin of his record and past prison escapes and his notoriously sticky fingers. He had warned Fíli and Kíli both to be wary of him since the thief had very specific contract terms, and if they should catch him at anything to let Dwalin know at once. Fíli had nodded and taken him seriously, so now he felt compelled to see what exactly Nori was up to. 

Quiet as a doe, Fíli sank lower onto his heels and crept around the terrace silently, using the shadows to his advantage, ducking behind the fountain and sculptures until he was barely a stone’s throw away from the thief, who had been whistling nonchalantly the whole duration. He grew anxious but more focused as he was so close now and still unnoticed, and it reminded him distinctly of hunting prey in the woods. Peeking around the pillar he hid behind, he saw that Nori had yet another candelabras next to him on the bench as well as a goblet and a handful of silverware. Fíli scowled at his back, because who would really take silverware? It was ridiculous and petty, completely dishonorable, and an irritated bitterness welled in his throat. 

Still undetected, Fíli steps out from behind the pillar and thus alerts Nori to his presence. He leaps off from the bench and a knife appears in his hand, stance ready to lunge and fight as quickly as a snap of his fingers. Fíli remains unimpressed but his hands flex, ready to reach behind him for the dirk at his belt if need be, but quickly the surprise withers and Nori guffaws irritably, stiffly sheathing his knife in his sleeve. 

“Oh, it’s just you, prince,” Nori says offhandedly but his stature and the tenseness in his shoulders doesn’t fade, even if he shrugs like there’s a weight on his back. “Sneaky, aren’t you?” It wasn’t as much a question as it was a statement, seeming cross at being caught unawares. 

“More than you, it would seem, since I wasn’t caught and you are now,” Fíli replies callously, crossing his arms. He watches Nori closely as he picks up some of the forks and starts twirling them in his fingers, a crooked smirk forming on his face that was less than amused. 

“What are you going to do? Cuff me and bring me to the king? He’s busy at the moment,” Nori answers, annoyingly calm and smooth, graceful and quiet as he takes a few steps. Fíli didn’t fail to notice the thief eyeing him up and down with a lascivious glint in his grey eyes, and a lick of fire came to life in the pit of his stomach at the prying attention. 

“No,” Fíli says, swallowing thickly and ignoring the flare that grew hotter in him. “Dwalin and the others can keep watch over you just fine. And Dori, too. Imagine how angry he’d be, knowing you stole from the elves.”

Fíli knew he had struck a chord when a corner of Nori’s mouth curls into a snarl and his free hand into a fist at his side. “Don’t bring my brother into this, if you know what’s best for you, princeling,” he sneers almost quietly, his eyes hard and cold like the edge of a knife. When he turns, he faces Fíli again and the irritation is wiped from his face like he wore it as a mask, or perhaps put one on, and looks Fíli over again, taking account of his golden hair and the way his feet shifted uncomfortably on the stone. 

Fíli grows more irritated as he was not here to soak up Nori’s indecent looks (or think about how much they stirred his blood). Then Nori has the nerve to start collecting his prizes off the bench, and that was when Fíli reacted without thought, fueled by his annoyance that grew like a beast in his chest. He leaps forward and scatters the remaining silverware before reaching for the second candelabras. 

“Let it go! You’re thieving!” Fíli hisses, taking it and trying to wrest the other from Nori’s grip, but the thief let it go instantly. It banged and vibrated on the stone and Nori gave Fíli a pointed look full of venom. 

“And now you’ve gone and dented it,” Nori says like it was a tragic loss, but his eyes were flaring and annoyed that the noise more than likely alerted the whole damn valley.

Fíli growls, angry at Nori’s attitude at turning this onto him and pretending like he was aloof and careless. “You dropped it,” his voice is dangerously low and hoarse. 

“Because you were trying to take it from me,” Nori sneers, leveling Fíli with a cold glare but he returns one of his own in kind. The prince takes a step forward, meaning to seize his arms, but Nori slips out of his approach, swift as air. Fíli watches his thick braid trail behind him, the brightest auburn in the moon light. 

“It wasn’t yours to take,” Fíli replies a little hesitantly, his face heating up despite his efforts. 

“You really think the elves will care about a few forks and knives?” Nori asks and laughs, finding it all humorous. Why was the prince trying to be so noble? Nori was not blind to the looks he had received from him in days past, stolen and secretive, so he thought this whole thing was a farce and the prince was trying to hold a value he didn’t revere as well as he thought he did. Nori saw right through him. 

“Why do _you_ care about a few forks and knives? If the elves don’t, why would you?” Fíli counters, turning to face Nori as he moves around the space between the pillars and bench. When Nori bends to pick up the tossed candelabras, he made all the effort he could to avoid looking at his backside. In the back of his mind he grew irritated tenfold that Nori had many attractive features, and at himself for finding them so at the wrong time. He was supposed to be angry, slighted, and not turning on to the thief’s obvious movements and looks. He had more resolve than that. 

Nori regarded him with a raised brow and scrolled his eyes over Fíli again, noting the shape of his broad shoulders and chest and that subtle curve of his arse underneath his layers that Nori rather approved of. He acted like he never did a thing when he twanged one of the bars of the candelabras. “Because they’re elvish, of course. Durable keepsakes for the road,” he replies casually. 

“Keepsakes?” Fíli guffaws derisively, taking one of the spoons on the bench and wanting to toss it at him. “That’s ridiculous. They’re not yours, you didn’t pay for them.” The more Fíli argues, the more he felt it deflect off Nori’s exterior, and the more his blood stirred from the incessant heated looks he received. 

Nori simply shrugs. “Could still fetch a high price.”

Fíli clenches his fists and grits his teeth. “Is that how you did it? Steal things and sell them?” he scoffs. “Is that how Ori got through his schooling all these years?” It was cruel and he knows it, but he couldn’t help the tinge of satisfaction at the outrage that broke on Nori’s face like a dam. “How honorable,” he adds sarcastically, and smirks when Nori’s eyes widened. 

“And you think you have it?” Nori spits. “You, a prince in nothing but name, raised by an exiled one? I bet you don’t even know _half_ of the things Thorin did to keep you and your brother fed.” 

A fire bursts in Fíli’s heart. He leaps forward before Nori could react and takes his collar in his fists, slamming his back into a nearby pillar. The anger in his gut is unfamiliar as it roars hotter and Fíli grips tighter, boring holes into Nori’s eyes. 

“You doubt my uncle’s honor?” Fíli grits, his nose nearly touching Nori’s, and at this proximity he can smell the leather and smoke and metal off the thief, blanketed by faint lavender. His blood thrums in his ears and his heart beats faster in his chest, his breath coming sharp between his teeth. 

Nori’s own glare was harsh and indomitable, flicking across the icy flecks in Fíli’s eyes. He grasps Fíli’s wrists but doesn’t pull, instead works his arms so Fíli had no choice but to step closer, nearly chest to chest. The prince was a mere few inches taller than him but that was no matter, Nori was still able to wedge a leg between Fíli’s strong thighs. 

A sharp spike of satisfaction blooms in Nori’s gut when Fíli’s eyes widen as his leg pressed further, taunting and teasing, telling him just exactly what he meant to do. His scowl melts into mild surprise, his lips parting and a distinct blush creeps across his cheeks into his beard. Nori’s eyes flick to his mouth and he remembers how tantalizing his lips looked wrapped around the end of his pipe, and he suddenly realizes just how much he wanted to ravish them. 

Haltingly, Nori answers, “Yes,” in a harsh and gritting voice, licking his lips, Fíli’s eyes watching his tongue rove. “And yours, also, princeling.” 

One last look to Nori’s eyes and Fíli was finished, his resolve breaking and yet he is reluctant to fight it. He pulls Nori by the grip on his jacket towards him, crashing his mouth to the thief’s in a hard kiss. Nori pulls at his arms and hums into it, easily opening his mouth to Fíli’s prodding and searching tongue. The prince’s hands move to grasp his shoulder and the back of his neck tightly, almost uncomfortably so, but Nori thrums in pleasure from it. 

Seeing the normally cool and composed prince flare and growl in anger set a fire to Nori’s blood, from the already smoldering coals. There was no doubt and no denying the blond was heart-stoppingly gorgeous, but Nori was not expecting him to meet his questionable standards so he never tried anything. To get out of trouble from the stupidly honorable prince he thought he would try, and never anticipated him to react as he did, even if it was unexpected and roundabout. Now, he wanted nothing more than to experience for himself what the young Durin prince felt like moving against him. 

Nori starts pulling at the arms that circle his shoulders but Fíli resists, grunting into the kiss, so Nori bites his lip in retaliation. It wasn’t enough to draw blood but Fíli’s arms loosen and when Nori breaks apart and glances at his eyes, he catches the undoubted lust in them, still with hints of aggravation hiding behind the steely colors. Nori digs his fingers in Fíli’s thick hair, and he doesn’t have the time to admire the softness before he’s pulling him down again for another hard, greedy kiss that was mostly lips and tongue. Without needing a hint, Fíli tugs impatiently at the closures of his jacket, fighting Nori at the mouth for control. 

It isn't long before Nori is bending himself over the seat of the bench, pressing a small vial into Fíli’s rough palm. The prince snorts, shaking his head but uncorking it. “Pilfer this, too?” he nearly growls into Nori’s hair but his voice is too rough, his fingers making quick work. 

Nori rolls his eyes through the hot stretching, trying not to moan so soon. “Earned it,” he huffs, but isn't disappointed in the sudden response Fíli gives him. 

Fíli’s grip is hard and unforgiving on his hips, his fingers tight and bruising, teeth digging into Nori’s neck as he comes hard into him. Nori is fast to follow and he moans deep into his forearms, legs trembling as his pleasure abates. Fíli grunts as he straightens himself and looks about for any peeking eyes. He finds no one hiding in the shadows of the terrace or balconies above, much to his relief. Immediately he regrets the noise he and Nori must have made, and looking down Fíli is almost amazed and surprised to find the thief panting with his braid mussed across his shoulders, still buried inside him. 

Fíli steps away and hastily laces himself back up, keeping his eyes downward and trying to suppress the growing _something_ in his heart, threatening to engulf him whole. He turns and finds Nori slowly doing the same, his sharp and elegant profile a silver line from the full moon. Fíli swallows thickly, suddenly at a loss for words, catching the glinting light of a fork on the ground. He looks at the scattered silverware and forgotten goblet and candelabras, something between hesitance and guilt settling like a heavy weight on his chest. 

He coughs awkwardly before he forces himself to speak. “If you really want them, take them. They’re yours to deal with,” he says, feigning hardiness, but it really isn't at all what he feels like or what he meant to say. 

Nori huffs and it almost sounds like a laugh, depreciating, and he turns away from Fíli. “Right,” he says quietly, and doesn’t offer anything else. 

With that, Fíli turns and leaves hastily, his feet heavy in the marble halls, his head feeling rather light and dizzying. When he returns to the group, most are sleeping and snoring, the fire mere ashes and embers. Fíli lies on his thick pallet in the alcove in the wall and hides in the blankets, closing his eyes and feeling very dishonorable indeed. 

.

Nori didn’t manage to find any sleep that night, smoking his pipe and watching the sky brighten. Thorin came to rouse everyone from sleep so they may slip off into the late night air, and Nori was almost relieved to have something to keep his mind occupied. His conscience weighed heavily on him, and it was so strange that he became irritated at himself, at that stupid prince, at his conscience—he was glad they were leaving the damned elf nest. 

He regretted the lack of sleep by mid-morning from the steep inclines they still needed to traverse across the Misty Mountains, and it did not help that his arse and hips were magnificently sore, along with the sharp irritation of the bite mark at the back of his neck. He made sure to remain ahead of the blond prince to avoid looking at him, but it didn’t help that he could feel his eyes on his back and knowing that it was him. They had a small break for lunch and when Nori peeked a glance at him, the prince carefully avoided his eyes in an aloof manner, attempting to laugh at something his brother said but Nori knew better. He knew when people forced smiles because he could do so himself and leagues better. The only thing he hated about putting on airs was the look Ori gave him when he did those fake smiles, because _he_ knew better also. He knew Ori suspected something was on Nori’s mind, but thankfully he had the good sense not to pry, and he left Nori by himself to his own devices.

Sparing another reluctant glance, Fíli was staring at his hands and suddenly looking twice his age, his shoulders heavy like the elbows in his knees were the only thing keeping him from sinking into the earth. 

Something akin to guilt seeped into Nori’s stomach and grew cold and thick like sludge—but Nori didn’t _feel_ guilt. So he became angry. And when he was angry, he didn’t speak unless spoken to, and when he growled at Ori to leave him be, he hated the look in his face before he retreated, one of hurt and surprise. Rarely did he ever speak to Ori so sharply. Gritting his teeth, Nori might have apologized if it weren't for the quivering in his heart. He was all out of sorts, and it was because of that stupid prince. 

.

Wet and soaked through from the onslaught of rain, exhausted and amazed from the stone giants and their battle, Nori wanted nothing more than to sleep. He knelt, feeling his bones creak and joints twinge, meaning to look through his pack and make sure his things were safe and in order, and hopefully all dry, before bedding down. He was content to pull back his hood and run his hand through the side of his hair, feeling dribbles of water slip down his back as he did so and he shivered, letting his eyes shut for a blessed moment. 

When he opens them, he sees a familiar pair of boots, hands clenched at their sides and wrists trimmed with wet and stringy fur. Nori tightens his jaw and curls his fingers into his palm, wishing he would only _go away_. Didn't he know Nori wanted nothing to do with him?

Fíli clears his throat. “I need to say… for you to know…,” he says in a hushed tone, taking a steadying breath. “that it was a mistake. It was. And I’m sorry.” 

Nori looks up at him and for a moment he was speechless. Fíli looks just as exhausted as he felt, his hair wet and in disarray, and his eyes were hard and cold with his mouth in a tight line. Nori realizes the lad meant it, every word. 

Before he could miss this opportunity at an easy break-off, Nori says, “Aye,” his voice coming raspy in his throat. “It was. A mistake.” He looks to his pack absently, his head spinning. “Good. Glad we agree.” _Yes, very good_.

Fíli nods, looking at Nori and his things for an unnecessary handful of seconds before turning away and going toward the other side of the cave. Nori doesn't watch him go as he looks back to his pack and huffs out half a laugh, shaking his head and allowing a semblance of relief come to him through the mild shivering.

 _That was almost too easy_ , Nori thinks, tying his pack up and laying out on the sandy floor. He heaves a heavy sigh and almost smiles. 

.

The goblins were handsy to say the least, and Nori had never been more irritated in his life. He was no stranger to body searches, but with the goblins’ hands all over him he felt utterly disgusted and dirty and angry. More than once he had to pull a grubby clawed hand form his coat to keep his knives safe. 

When the great pimpled, smelly and frankly disturbing King sang his song and threatened to torture Ori, Nori just about took one of his knives to throw it into the great goblins eye. Then, when the beasties were upturning their sacks and one held up one of his nicked candelabras, he felt like shrinking into the floorboards. The look Dori gave him could have curdled milk, and it did curdle his resolve. Tentatively, he catches Fíli’s eye and was surprised to see him shaking his head in disbelief and actually laughing, if a little condescending. Nori shrugs helplessly and winks, and the princes eyes might have widened and if they did Nori would have taken it as a compliment, but they were interrupted by a loud and deafening noise. 

Goblins and Dwarves alike were laid flat at the blinding light and reverberating boom echoing throughout the cavern. Before he really knew it, Nori had his mace thrust into his hands while being pulled to his feet with a familiar tattooed hand at his sleeve. 

“We must fight our way out, thief,” Dwalin growls with a predatory curl to his mouth and a glint to his eyes Nori could only describe as excitement, and perhaps a heavy drop of battlelust. Nori barks out a laugh and jumps to a run to follow his companions, fire coursing in his blood with the excuse to hack these goblins to bits. 

“Aye, I can do that!” Nori replies, and lands a good swing on on the nearest goblin head, enjoying the crack of it and the way the creature slumps to the walkway. He deftly hops over it and hacked at another and swung again and again until his hands were raw and numb. He grins. The dull ache in his hands and throughout his shoulders and arms feels like success with each swing. 

Before a goblin had the chance to slice through Nori’s shoulder while he was busy with another, there was a _whoosh_ and the soft crunch and spatter of something hitting its target deftly. Nori breaks the knees of the goblin and crushes its chest before turning to see what had been done to the pitiful creature. There was Fíli, pulling a throwing axe from the goblins head, eyes wide and hair askew, giving Nori a rather crooked grin he had not expected to see. Nori returned it in kind, if a little surprised. 

“You’re welcome,” Fíli says and continues running after the others, slashing and cutting goblins as he goes. 

Nori laughs at his cheek, tripping goblins and giving them all a good taste of his mace. “Well I’m not thanking you!” he answers, shattering the arms of a goblin before it could leap on Fíli’s back. The prince’s eyes are blue and livid when he glances back at Nori, his cheeks dimpling from his grin. 

“I’m not thanking you, either!” Fíli says and Nori can hear his laugh through the shaking of the boards and the cries of the goblins overhead. 

Nori shakes his head and follows his golden hair as if it were a beacon.

.

Fíli’s hands are sticky with sap and pine needles when he unsheathes his swords again, leaping down from the flaming tree. Bilbo stood up to Azog to defend Thorin, there was no reason he shouldn't also. He faintly hears Balin telling him no, but with one look to Kíli, they’re charging down the trunk to fight the wargs amongst the flames. 

Then there are eagles and Fíli is being caught in their talons and deposited onto another’s back next to his brother. Up ahead he sees Thorin and his heart stops thudding in his chest; he’s limp and bruised and bleeding, hanging from the eagles talons like he was the beast’s supper. Kíli puts a hand on his shoulder knowingly because there is no way to find out about his uncle’s fate until they land, and that is unforeseeable to him. 

They flew over ranges of green and craggy mountains, over rivers and magnificent waterfalls, across meadows and forests. It seemed like hours before Fíli and Kíli were finally let off the eagle's back, and by then Gandalf had roused Thorin from unconsciousness. Once his uncle had apologized to Bilbo—at last—and embraced him, Fíli was more relieved (and more sore) than he could say. He hooks his thumbs into his belt, smiling as the sun hit his face from behind the mountains, relieved that he and his family were alive and out of the goblin tunnels, relieved Thorin recognized his harshness toward their nothing-but-kind Burglar, and, more than anything, they had made it this far. 

The Lonely Mountain stood leagues away, one peak amongst flatlands, regal and tangible. Fíli had heard all the stories, all the tales, all the tragedies of Erebor and Smaug since he was a boy, but to see it was something entirely different. It was like a new excitement pumped through his blood, made his heart beat harder, faster. He felt like there was s real possibility in success, more good things, more promise and more fortune. It was reassuring and inspiring. 

Off to the right, he saw Ori grinning at the sight of the mountain, Dori draping an arm across his shoulders with the same bright smile. Ori turns to Nori behind him and points eastward, saying something Fíli couldn’t hear, the thief nodding with a smile tugging at his mouth through his elaborate beard. Then, to Fíli’s astonishment, he flings his arms around Ori’s waist and lifts him up, laughing loud and heartily as he spins in circles. 

He pauses in curiosity. Fíli could have sworn on his daggers Nori didn’t have a considerate or affectionate bone in his body, seeming like he was filled to the brim with nothing but black guile and conniving and menace. Then, to see him spin Ori around joyfully and a bit childishly, Dori standing by in approval and mirth but watchful so they didn’t tumble off the Carrock, it was… almost relieving, in a sense. That Nori wasn’t what Fíli thought he was. That he wasn’t all that bad. 

And when they descended the Carrock, procuring what they could for breakfast, his new discoveries were further proved when Nori gave most of his waybread to his brothers. 

“What are you looking at, Fíli?” Kíli says, interrupting him from his thoughts. 

“Nothing, really. Just thinking,” he replies casually and smiles for his brother, grasping his knee assuringly. 

“We’re so close now, can you believe it?” Kíli says with happy disbelief, his eyes wide and sparkling. 

Fíli shakes his head belatedly, his head still swimming, and smiles widely. "Hardly. It’s so strange, you know… seeing it.”

Kíli nods and knocks his shoulder to Fíli’s after a moment. “You look so melancholy. Lighten up! It’s not your death that awaits you, its victory. It’s home.”

Fíli looks up from where he had been fiddling with his waybread between his knees, and sees Kíli’s eyes full of laughter, hope, his shoulders vibrating from his chuckling. Slowly, Fíli joins him, and they laugh together in the rising morning sunlight and cool autumn air. He was unaware to how the sun made his hair glow and shine like the brightest gold; he was unaware to the eyes on him, watching him laugh and color in the cheeks, unaware that it was Nori who found him so unexpectedly, so unnervingly beautiful. 

.

That was the problem. Nori didn’t find people _beautiful_. It was forbidden, unnecessary, and untrue most of the time. Never has he thought of anyone as beautiful—comely, attractive, maybe even pretty, but _beautiful?_ No. It was ridiculous. It was insanity. It was dangerous. 

But Fíli, in that moment, laughing dimple-cheeked and merry, after such direness, after defending his uncle and king against certain death, he was nothing but. Fíli was the epitome of the word, through to the core, he was beautiful and he was good. 

Nori’s heart races like a beast in his chest, it became hard to swallow and his hands itched with sweat. Dori and Ori chattered around him but it was a buzz to his ears. 

He was in trouble. He knew it, oh how he knew it, and yet he couldn’t stop looking, blatantly staring at him. When Fíli stood, he realizes how broad his shoulders actually are, how much weight they could carry. And those damned dimples boring into his cheeks like thumbprints. But most of all, he recognizes the beautiful color of his hair, like gilded wheat, framing his face in waves, and just how stupidly, unnecessarily radiant he was. 

_Oh, damn my mortal soul_ , Nori thinks to himself, finally turning away, his mind still awash in awe and sturdy disbelief. He pointedly ignores the heat rising in his cheeks. 

.

Beorn’s house was oddly relaxing and comforting despite the lack of beds and the big animals. Inside smelled of fresh hay, furs, bread and turned earth, a fire always lit, light pouring in from the open windows to let in a gentle breeze. Outside smelled of late summer flowers, honey, and trees, bees always flitting about, ponies and oxen and goats eating their fill of green grass. It was peaceful and welcomed after the last few trying weeks. Fíli slept until late morning for a few days, and when he woke, a handful of others had done the same. 

Beorn, after the first frightening introduction, was a kind sort of Man, if a few feet taller than Gandalf. He was wary of the Dwarves at first, soft-spoken but generous. He didn’t have many clothes to offer, but washed theirs for them while they swam in the river that passed through his grounds. He gave them fresh mead, bread, berries, and copious amounts of honey and cream and fruits and cheeses, all without question. The Dwarves ate their fill and thanked him profusely and also carefully, because they knew of his shapeshifting abilities. 

It wasn’t until Bilbo had a good and jolly conversation with him that Beorn grew comfortable with them. He told stories with a loud booming voice and a mirthful laugh, and paid close attention to the ones Bilbo, Balin and Bofur told. He sang to their songs and music, even singing some of his own to everyone’s delight. Finally, some unrealized tension released and they were all able to relax as companions and good friends. 

Too soon, however, Thorin announced they would leave the next day at first light as they had lingered five days too long. That day everyone seemed to find rest when and where they could, taking time to mend clothes and sharpen weapons and gather the supplies Beorn offered, as well as pack up provisions and tend hurts. 

At sundown, Fíli made rounds of Beorn’s estate, more of a ritual than anything; he had done the same back at the Ered Luin before embarking on this quest. He startled more than a few rabbits into the brush, and watched the firebugs lazily drift about the grounds as he cleared his head. It was cool this night, and he was glad for it because the day had been a hot one. 

“You’re not sneaking up on me this time,” a voice says somewhere to his right. Fíli turns and was thankful for the dim light from the fading sun and the lodge behind him, otherwise Nori would have been entirely indiscernible sitting against the broad beech tree. 

He had an ankle up on one knee, leaning lazily backward into the knotted trunk, and it seemed as if he was handing something in his lap. Fíli huffs a laugh, admittedly a little startled, but didn’t mind the interruption of his inward thoughts all that much. 

“I wasn’t aware you were out here,” he says quietly, stuffing his hands in his pockets, careful of his knives. 

Nori sniggers, flicking a small curl of wood away. Taking a few steps forward, Fíli peers over and sees that Nori has a small carving grasped in his left hand, a knife in the other that he was using to shape the soft wood. “You've passed me three times on your scout 'round the grounds. And here I thought you were supposed to have sharp hearing.” 

Weeks ago, Fíli would have been insulted by that, but when Nori glances upward, his gray eyes surprisingly bright, he knew he was teasing. It was also something Kíli would say so Fíli lets out a genuine laugh that wasn’t condescending at all. He was glad to see Nori smile in return. 

“Aye, it would seem so. Just clearing my head, is all,” Fíli says, his voice deep and warm, and it gives Nori shivers despite himself. 

He looks through the corner of his eye to see the prince shifting awkwardly on his feet, entirely unsure now, like he was waiting for something. It was making Nori uncomfortable watching him shift about, so before he knew it, he says, “You can sit down if y’like. Or continue your brooding. Whichever.” 

Fíli looks out into the meadows and seems to contemplate his options, taking a step back and then forward, until he finally ends up sitting down against the trunk, a few inches away. A heavy silence lays over them, full of unsaid things and a large dose of awkwardness where none had been before. 

Fíli crosses his legs and swallows thickly, playing with the grass as he tries to slow his racing heart. Despite the understanding in the cave, Fíli still thought about their encounter in Rivendell more often than he would like, and always unexpectedly. Whenever he was in Nori’s presence he always felt a sort of static, the kind that makes the hair rise on his arms. He hated and savored it all the same, cursing his weak heart. 

It feels as if Nori can sense his indecision, considering getting up to leave, so he plants his feet and strives to pretend what he is not: someone who actually has their feelings in order. He takes a deep breath and swears Nori can hear his blood thrumming as he wills his other thoughts aside. “What are you carving?” he asks, unbelievably thankful his voice is steady and doesn’t waver. 

Nori glances over at him, looks at his busy and fidgeting hands, and then back to his own. “A bear, for Ori. To remember this place,” he replies, almost softly, the sound of his knife scraping quietly against the tender wood. 

_A sentimental thing for a thief_ , Fíli thinks and almost says aloud but decides against it. He found out earlier Nori didn’t take kindly to being called a thief, when Glòin wouldn't relent. They almost came to blows, if it wasn’t for Thorin intervening to mediate. 

Hesitantly, Fíli holds out a hand, silently asking to see the carving. Nori swallows and hands it to him, suddenly nervous because he wasn’t one to talk about his crafting abilities, especially since it wasn’t nearly on par with what Bofur or Bifur could do. He waits patiently, expectantly, hopefully, as Fíli turns it over and traces the notched fur delicately with his fingers. Nori obediently ignores the uncharacteristic stir in his stomach. 

Then Fíli smiles brilliantly and Nori doesn’t miss the way his eyes crinkle, making his face entirely too merry and youthful. “It’s very good. I wouldn't mark you as one to carve, but it’s lovely. Truly.”

Quickly, Nori takes it and turns his face away to hide the heat growing in his cheeks, be damned. “Thank you,” he says almost inaudibly, his fingers too jittery now to work lest he nick himself. 

Then, with an unfathomable need to explain, to talk over this madness mounting in his head and heart, he continues. “I-I used to go places, years ago… and I’d make something for him. For Ori, of the places I’d been. Something to bring back just for him. A cat, a warrior, a fish. I’d give him other things, too; quills, ink, scarves and sweets. But he always seemed to like the carvings best. I never got it, but he asked me every time for the carving first.”

Nori finishes and feels the silence on his ears like muffs despite the buzzing of the firebugs and the faint rustle of the leaves. He regrets every word, regrets ever speaking so openly to Fíli, the damned prince of all people, and he wishes a hole would swallow him up. 

But then Fíli is moving to kneel in front of him, his stupidly beautiful face open and smiling. It’s strange to Nori, to say something so personal outside of his family and be met with kindness instead of laughter and ridicule. It’s utterly foreign and he can hardly remember another time similar to this. Fíli fixes his hair and Nori is distracted for a split moment, watching how his fingers moved. 

Fíli takes a deep leveling breath and says, “Well, I think it’s because it meant something. From you, for him especially. Ori’s the type to appreciate little things, I’ve found. I helped him a bit with my family’s history and he bought me half a dozen pastries,” Fíli chuckles, full of warmth and rumbling like distant thunder, playing absently with a stalk of grass. “It’s very good though, so I can imagine that the others would have been as well. I think he will like it.” 

Fíli speaks unabashedly and without shame or hindrance, unaware of the voice in back of his head telling him to speak more, just to talk. He delights in the way Nori looks at him in surprise, his eyes bright and glittering like fresh snow, the way his mouth opens just slightly beneath his braided beard, how his hands slacken against the carved bear in his palms. But, then he is disheartened when Nori straightens against the tree and seems to shrink and draw away, now keeping his brilliant eyes downcast. Fíli’s heart lurches in his throat with the thought that he said too much, too deeply, shifting awkwardly on his knees as he examines the grass stalk in his fingers. 

Nori coughs and crosses his legs, continuing his work carefully like Fíli hadn't spoken at all, but he could see the sharp lines of his shoulders and the tenseness in his movements clearly. He was offended, for whatever reason, though Fíli didn’t understand how or why. He was about to take his leave in split moment when the side door of the lodge opens. The light inside is cast into the yard and Fíli flicks his eyes over to see Ori standing in the wide and too-big doorway, hardly reaching half its height. 

“Nori?” he calls. “Supper is set!” 

Fíli looks at Nori as soon as he begins to stand and doesn’t mistake his expression for anything less than a scowl. Nori tucks the bear away and the knife in a sleeve pocket as he stalks away. “Aye, I’m coming,” he grumbles, moving swiftly across the grass toward the door. 

Fíli pulls himself to standing with a heavy weight in his chest, striding after Nori. Ori had just begun to push the huge door closed when he notices Fíli in the light from inside. “Oh, hello, Fíli,” he says airily in confusion, and watches as the prince steps into the lodge and shoves the door closed with a heavy thud. 

“Supper?” he says tersely in reply, gesturing with a nod to follow. 

Ori bobs his head, wondering why he was so short in tone and words, but makes to follow him to Beorn’s table. 

.

Fíli mulls through his supper as if it were prison fare and not the freshness it was, a perpetual crease in his brow as his thoughts deepen. He doesn’t know what he did wrong. He was only being nice, assuring, maybe even painfully hopeful but he wouldn't admit that to himself. He glares at Nori and is secretly pleased he looks just as troubled as he feels. 

Maybe Fíli misjudged him. Perhaps Nori doesn’t understand kindness like Fíli thought, probably because his heart was as hard as the stone he came from. At that thought he feels angry and hurt though he supposes he was only being dramatic. It still irritates him that Nori could be so sudden in his moods, however, and resolves to keep his eyes away from him.

But then in Mirkwood, in the cell across his, Fíli sees Nori reach out and swiftly unsheathe a knife from the guard’s leg, quick as air. The guard continues walking like nothing happened, and Fíli is mightily impressed. A stone-cold heart, but with nimble fingers, Nori is. Fíli can’t help but smirk. 

.

The eerie half-silence in Mirkwood drowns Nori’s ears as he twirls the balanced blade in his fingers thoughtfully. It eats at him because he is desperate but utterly reluctant to break the silence with the prince in a cell across from him, spinning his own hidden blade in his fingers. 

He remembers Fíli’s selfless words to him at Beorn’s, how the fading light had made his too-blue eyes shine, how his voice sent shivers right to his stomach, how he was so afraid. So stupidly, foolishly, ridiculously afraid Nori felt at his words and they weren't even full of emotion or exceedingly heartfelt. He almost feels sorry for being so childish. But he knew Fíli’s heart then, and what a bold and good heart he has. Too good, too noble. Too high for Nori and his muddied and sinful heart to reach. 

And when he is afraid, he acts angry, his default, so Fíli had the good sense to stay away from him the few days they were lost in the blasted forest. But here in the cells across from one another… it was much harder to maintain his falsities. Especially when he was so impressed by Fíli’s knife collection, before the elf bastards took them. He would have been the last to guess Fíli had so many hidden knives on his person, maybe even enough to rival Nori. It would explain how Fíli came across the small stiletto knife from the bottom of his boot sole. 

Finally, the madness overtook Nori and he stood up from sitting on the bench, tucking the knife in the back of his belt before sliding his arms through the bars, resting his elbows on the cross bar. He purses his lips in thought as he watches Fíli spin the thin blade between his fingers, nothing but flashes in the light from above. 

“Who taught you?” Nori asks, and it’s a long moment before Fíli even deigns a response. He glances at Nori before pulling his knee to his chest, flipping the blade closed with a sharp click. 

“My mother,” he replies simply if a little curt, and Nori can see the ripples in his cheek as his jaw tenses. Nori sighs, realizing then that he had indeed put him off in the last few days, and feels bad for it, admittedly. He would have to fix that. 

“Aye? She always seemed to me like the battle axe type,” Nori says, playing with the bands of leather around his wrists. 

Faintly, Nori hears, “What would you know?” So with that, he rolls his eyes and gives up, retracting his arms and laying down on the stone bench, wondering what in Mahal’s good graces he could ever do. 

A little while later, when Nori is dozing off for sleep, he hears a soft whir and then a _grrsh_ in the wall behind him. He blinks his eyes open and sits up, looking out his cell to see Fíli at the bars of his own. Nori furrows his brows and looks behind him, seeing in the dark the oiled wood handle of the stiletto knife lodged in the wall. He chortles a laugh and shakes his head, standing on the stone bench to dislodge it. 

Fíli says, “See if you can pick the lock. I’m shite at that business.” There’s a faint smile to his face when Nori goes to his cell door, reaching an arm through, and he can’t deny he is relieved. 

“Aye, nobility and honor and all that,” Nori says with only a hint of a depreciating tone. Fíli laughs louder than Nori would have expected and he raises a brow in question.

“I’ve broken the law before,” Fíli explains, a mischievous curl to his mouth.

Nori goes to the tips of his boots to better hear the lock mechanics, still able to peek through the bars to steal glances at Fíli a stone’s throw away. “And did good Mister Dwalin help get you out instead of in? Or was it your uncle?” he teases as he twists the thin blade into the lock. 

Fíli’s cheeks deepen in color and he sees it from the faint ray of moonlight filtering inside, and Nori can’t help but find it endearing. In fact, he finds him lovely, almost too much because he drops the knife. He curses inwardly as he picks it back up, knowing Fíli was laughing at him but he doesn’t mind. 

“Well, yes. But I had to pay the fines,” Fíli admits, knowing how hilarious it sounds. 

“What for?” Nori asks. 

“There was a Stonefoot noble in the Ered Luin who I knew had a blade from the Orocarni. I heard rumors of its sharpness and perfect balance and craft,” Fíli says, watching Nori twist the blade in the lock just so, weaving his fingers together absently. “Truthfully, I really only wanted to look at it, to hold it. But there was no way I could ask because there were only rumors of course, ones that shouldn't be spreading, but I knew he had it, as I learned from one of his servants. So I snuck into his home and found it mounted on the wall of some trophy room. The blade was gorgeous, just barely curved, sleek and thin, almost elvish looking but dwarfish patterns were all over it and the make was obvious. Then the Stonefoot noble walks in and catches me but I can’t drop it, he was so unworthy of this blade. He chases me around the room and I’m knocking expensive things left and right to get away from him, and I broke his window as I escaped.”

By the end Nori is laughing so hard he has to lower his hands to his knees, his shoulders bouncing as he shakes his head. Fíli is laughing also from recalling it so clearly. 

“Are you serious? Did this really happen?” Nori asks incredulously, going back to attempt to pick the lock again, taking a needle from his hair to help. 

“Yes, I swear, all true. I had to give the sword back of course, but afterwards I tried buying it off him but he was still so angry with me, he didn’t want to,” Fíli rubs his brow in disbelief as his laughter dies out, sighing. “I was in Thorin’s debt for years.” 

Nori shakes his head at Fíli and then growls at the lock when he hears it clicking but failing to budge open. He groans in frustration and eventually removes Fíli’s knife and his needle. “These doors aren't going to open. Like Balin said, they’re enchanted. Stupid elf magic.” When he stands, he gives the door a good kick before putting the needle away.

He takes a good look at the folding stiletto knife in his hand for the first time, admiring the simple shape but effectiveness of its make, twirling it in his fingers easily. When folded, it’s about the size of his palm, perfect to fit in the bottom of a boot. 

Causally, he leans against the cell door as he twirls the knife in his fingers and in the air, between each hand, and, peeking to make sure Fíli was looking, behind his back and over his head to catch it with the other hand. Fíli whistles low in mock surprise, a smile spreading on his face.

“This is a good blade,” Nori says, finished showing off, and folds the knife to toss it back. “Did you make it yourself?”

Fíli catches it swiftly and opens the knife to inspect it, the polished silver glinting in the torch glow and from the moonlight from the crevices above. “Aye. My first proper blade, too. I was forty-two,” Fíli reminisces. “nearly sliced my wrist open, end to end in the process. I wasn’t as careful then. My mother made sure I learned better in the oncoming years. She mostly taught me to throw axes and knives. She does have a battle axe, though, but I haven’t seen her use it in a great long while.” 

Nori nods in understanding, grasping the bars, feeling the strange greenish metal beneath his hands. Taking a deep breath, he says, “I mostly taught myself from watching others. But a fellow called Jorvik helped me with the rest… and picking locks. By the end I was better than him at both.” Nori didn’t dare mention the last time he saw Jorvik, with a knife to his throat and bloodied, telling little Nori to run. It still hurt to remember sometimes. To hide the fact, however, Nori gave a weak smile. “How many? Do you carry, I mean?” he asks to change the subject. 

Fíli huffs, adjusting his tunic. “Well, before the elf bastards took them, something like eighteen? Anywhere I could fit them, really.” 

Nori sniggers. “Not _anywhere_ , I hope.”

Fíli smiles and those blasted dimples reappear again and the thief’s heart flutters in his chest.

.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If his heart could beat any faster, it does, thudding in his chest like a drum, hammering in his ears like his head were an anvil. He feels Nori’s heat, his strength, his solid form, right in front of him, so close and tangible and unhindered. Gingerly, Fíli lifts his hands to grasp his jaw on either side, marveling in the softness of his beard, nervousness coursing through his blood when he is allowed to touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting right off in Erebor. Rating change, for bad and good. Mentions of molestation in non-con body searches pretty early in this chapter, but not explicit. Also, Fili and Nori get their stuff together. 
> 
> Thank you all who have read this, I am deeply grateful for your kind words and kudos!

Never has Nori been more afraid in his life than running away from a dragon. Even dozens of feet away, he can feel the heat of Smaug’s fire, sulfurous and blistering. A hundred and a half cowardly things race into his head and yank at his heart, but by some miracle he follows Thorin’s lead and obeys his orders. It’s a whir in his memory, throwing flash bombs at the dragon’s hide, running haywire in the forges, avoiding falling crates and the rivers of melted gold, into the Hall of Kings where a pillar of stone sits surrounded by bracers and scaffolding. 

It’s a sight Nori expects he will never see again, watching a dragon swim and drown in a pool of molten gold. The terror is a thick ball wedged in his throat when Smaug reemerges, painting the stone and cracking pillars as he escapes, an overwhelming sense of failure making itself clear to the remaining Company. 

They follow Bilbo out the front gate and watch at an overlook as the beast flies into the night sky and sheds the gold like a worn coat or a second skin, dissipating into the night. His roar echoes across the fields, angry and fierce. 

Then, Smaug flies for Laketown, and the horror is tangible in his mouth. 

Bofur, Fíli, Kíli and Òin are there, and if they were alive, they were going to be surely roasted black with Smaug’s flaming ferocity. Ori makes a small noise like he’s about to cry, and Nori doesn’t doubt that he does when he turns away into Dori’s chest, his elder brother wrapping him close, keeping his eyes locked on the doomed town. Faintly, Nori hears someone say, “We have to do something!” And he notices the dry raspiness in his throat for the first time, lined with ash and dust. Perhaps it was him that spoke, his throat as sore as it was, pleading, but everyone else lowers their heads with grief. There’s a hand on his shoulder and he turns to see Bifur there, a deep sadness in his eyes. 

Nori realizes he was one of the luckier ones. He had his family here and safe albeit shaken and sore. Bifur and Bombur had Bofur in Laketown, Glòin’s brother, and Thorin’s nephews. Looking about, Nori saw that Thorin wasn’t actually with them. Curiosity piqued, Nori follows Bilbo around a large boulder, and down below there is Thorin, stock-still and gazing at Erebor’s gate. Bitterness curls at Nori’s mouth. He couldn’t even watch the town burn, even pretend to be sorry or worried for his nephews he left behind to their fate, to reclaim the Mountain, and yet he is utterly occupied by it. It was obvious. 

Through the next few days it becomes clearer. Thorin’s eyes grow cold and distant, hardened, and his voice grates in his throat, dry and parched and yet he wouldn’t take water or food. He is uncoordinated and unbalanced, often spinning too fast to catch himself. And he is cruel. Not one member of the remaining Company is spared from his sharp tongue, when before he recognized everyone’s talents and abilities and appreciated each member; now, that was missing. Even his closest advisors, Balin and Dwalin, were unduly attacked and ridiculed for meager slights. 

Thorin was focused entirely on finding the Arkenstone, doling out commands and harsh words wherever he walked, slipping into volatile bouts of anger. More than once Nori was the subject of his ire, Thorin often bringing up his past deeds and throwing them into his face, conducting his own body searches that delved too deep, too closely, nearly every night. Nori resisted once when Thorin lingered too long between his legs, believing that Nori had hidden gems inside, but he had promptly received a black eye for his trouble. The anger in Dori’s face and voice did not faze Thorin, not even an inch, and perhaps he might have smiled. Dori had to be held back with much effort when the mad king commented next on Ori’s pretty looks. 

Not only humiliated, Nori was also growing afraid. The pure madness that overtook Thorin was uncanny. It was blatant and unhindered, raging and unpredictable and totally unhinged. Nori had seen nothing like it, when Thorin had put his face so close to his, snarling like a warg. He had met his fair share of nutters on the road but there was something about Thorin that was uncomfortable and chilled him to the bone, through all the things he had seen, rattled him to the core. 

And all of that gold. When Nori first saw it, he was amazed and speechless, eyes wide and mouth agape at the sea of gold and riches, tumbling like a valley of hills through the vast halls. He would remember the lights reflecting on the walls, the high ceilings, how the piles glittered endlessly, how captivating the sight of all that wealth looked. One fourteenth did not sound like much, but gazing upon the hoard he knew he would be quite content with one fourteenth. He would never be poor again, his brothers would never starve, he could even get a (halfway) respectable job. Or none at all, if he so chose. 

When everything started changing, however, the gold grew less and less appealing, and soon it became dangerous. Too much looking and Thorin thought you were planning on stealing; too little, he thought you were useless and thus were berated and deemed a betrayer. 

Over a fire grate, Nori and a few others huddled in silence, goldsickness was uttered in the few words spoken, and it became clear to Nori then. 

Thorin had fallen so deeply, so quickly, he barely even resisted. Gazing upon Thror’s cursed hoard, his cause was lost. He lost his sanity almost at the flip of a coin, quite literally, and there was naught anyone could do to stop it. 

Bilbo could, however. He was the only one of the Company Thorin would listen to, he ate and drank at the Hobbit’s behest, and he was the only one Thorin ever spoke kindly to. Whatever Bilbo was doing, and however he was doing it, Nori only hoped he kept at it lest they all be brought down with him. 

.

“Bombur?” Bofur calls. 

“Glòin?” Òin nearly shouts, looking down the corridors as they passed them. 

In truth, Fíli’s heart was racing faster than it ought to, being in his ancestral home at last. He thought it would be somewhat peaceful, subdued, but no one was answering their calls, and he had to see Thorin. To see what had become of him, if he was alright or….

He didn’t want to think on it. 

But, finally, at last, in a room that was lit with braziers and smelling a little less dusty, the rest of the Company emerges whole and hale. They greet each other warmly and enthusiastically, sharing embraces and forehead thumps and shoulder shakes. Relief washes over him when he sees that everyone is unhurt and smiling, and he’s almost too engulfed in the happy reunion to notice he’s embracing Nori with vigor before it’s too late. 

He pulls away but his arms move slower than he wants them to, catching a faint scent of metal and something like spice coming off from the thief’s hair. He feels his cheeks light afire when he looks at Nori properly for the first time in what felt like weeks, wearing a deep red-purple tunic to contrast the auburn of his hair, styled in that distinct shape albeit messy and rough, but he is alright. And Fíli sees after a long moment that Nori is smiling, his eyes crinkling and glittering like freshly polished silver, and belatedly Fíli realizes he’s smiling also. 

Keeping his gaze unbroken, Fíli says, “I’m glad you’re alright. Truly.”

Nori almost doesn’t hear him through the loud bursts of laughter around them, but his mouth still goes dry all the same. “You also, princeling.” Then he winks just for the fun of it, and chuckles when Fíli chokes and coughs. “Come, let’s get you some whiskey that might as well be moonshine, for how long it’s been sitting.” 

“Moonshine?” Fíli manages clearly now, walking with Nori to the barrels against the wall.

“Aye, its wicked stuff,” Nori answers as he pours barely two fingers worth into the cup, handing it to Fíli expectantly. 

He takes a sip and nearly buckles over with the strength of the liquor, his face scrunching and shivers trembling across his scalp and down his back. Nori and Dwalin, who had appeared to get some himself, start laughing heartily when Fíli smacks his lips together. “Wicked indeed! You could knock a Dwarf flat with a proper gulp,” Fíli comments, still shaking his head from the bitter taste. 

“Mister Dwalin knows that better than any,” Nori says teasingly, elbowing Dwalin’s cup as he takes a swig, spilling the moonshine into his beard. Dwalin only scowls at the thief but it was in good humor. 

“Dwalin…,” Fíli starts seriously, all his mirth gone. “Where is he?”

With one look to the prince, and even before then, Dwalin knows what he means. Fíli is alarmed by the sadness that seeps into the warrior’s gaze then, looking tired and exhausted and utterly spent, more than Fíli has ever seen him. His heart in his very chest seems to quiver and sink to his stomach. Kíli is there and he hears Fíli’s question and the non-answer Dwalin gives, and he feels the doubt keenly as well. 

“Take us, Dwalin. We have to see,” Kíli says, his voice stout and unwavering, his gaze just the same. If Nori had the time he would ponder the reasons how and why the younger prince was so steadfast and sure, but alas he did not. 

Fíli, Kíli, Bofur and Òin follow Dwalin out of the room and for a ways, but then Bilbo appears from the shadows, frantic, and gives them his warning. Fíli’s mind is awash in his deepest fears, his blood thrumming so loud in his ears he doesn’t hear his boots on the stone as he starts running toward the golden glow. His instincts tell him that is where the hoard is, and he follows the paths and stairs until he sees it in full. 

Thror’s hoard, all that gold, it nearly brings him to his knees. Dwalin’s face, Bilbo’s warning… it was all true, it has happened, the great sickness of his line, it was real. Fíli stares out into the vast ocean of gold, feeling the weight of all of it fall upon his shoulders and choking his throat, his knees quivering. His eyes sting and his head reels. It’s true, runs through his head, I was a fool to doubt it. Such a damn fool. 

And then Thorin steps out from a dark doorway, draped in a black cloak, and Fíli’s heart jumps to his mouth. The very sound of his voice is different, the look on his face is uncanny, how he moves, he was changed and Fíli knew it to his bones. The very air in his lungs is punched out from his gut and his blood runs cold.

He barely catches the heavy chunk of garnet Thorin threw at him before it tumbles down into another pile. He stares at Thorin in disbelief yet he knows. 

The testimony from the others further proves it. Thorin’s demands, his madness, his cruelty. Fíli feels sick, he bends to heave but nothing comes, and Kíli pulls him close to whisper in his ear and he rubs his shoulders, but he hears none of it. If he had the place of mind he would laugh at himself for his weakness, his fears, how it should be him doing the comforting, but he cannot bear to pretend otherwise. He always knew it would come to this, ever since Thorin first mentioned reclaiming Erebor, since he has heard of the sickness of Thror, he knew, yet he hoped beyond hope, so much it ached, that it would not come to this. 

Thorin doesn’t reappear again that night and for that Fíli is glad. He fears to see his uncle’s madness so close, what sort of Dwarf it has shaped him into, reminded of what he has lost. 

Fíli sits at a ledge and looks upon the gold piles for most of the night. He declines to go and wander the halls with Kíli and the others, something in his face keeping his brother from prodding, and he takes only a few bites of the watery stew Bombur brings him, leaving it on the bench next to him. His mind wanders from one thing to the next, all that has occurred and a hundred possibilities of what could be, but nothing more than the shroud of dread that had came over him so suddenly. He doesn’t even know how long he sits there, only knows that his feet have gone numb and the stone is rather unforgiving to his arse. 

Fíli takes a deep breath and becomes aware of a faint sharpening scrape to his right. Turning, he sees Nori there, sharpening an old knife casually, his boot tapping out a quiet rhythm. Fíli watches him dumbly, only faintly aware of the buzz fading from his ears. 

“How long have you been there?” Fíli asks, surprised how rough his voice comes from this throat. 

“Ah, finally came to your senses, I see,” Noir smiles and looks at Fíli through the corner of his eye. “Only for a few hours. Came to make sure you ate. But since you couldn’t hear me, well…,” he looks down to the now-cold bowl of soup between them, shrugging. He sets aside the knife and whetstone, sliding Fíli the bowl into his hip. 

Fíli looks from the soup to Nori, who is waiting for him with a pointed look, but Fíli’s heart is weary and he scowls. “I’m not hungry.”

Nori hums, unconvinced. “Y’know, that’s what Thorin said before he stopped eating altogether,” he says heavily in response but it sounds nonchalant, a trait of Nori’s that can be rather irritating. 

Still, it rattles Fíli’s nerves. He gives Nori his best sour look and reaches for the bowl and spoon, ignoring the thief’s triumphant grin. Minutes pass before either says a word, Fíli sipping on the broth and Nori sharpening his dagger. Once Fíli is finished, he holds the empty clay bowl in his hands, half a hundred questions forming on his tongue but few he would ask aloud. 

“Why are you really here?” he asks softly, keeping his gaze away, hating how his throat felt so tight all of a sudden. “Surely not just to make sure I ate my supper. Who sent you?”  
Nori looks over and considers Fíli for a moment, taking in the clothes that draped over his solid form, his hair in loose but snarled ringlets about his shoulders, his fingers impatiently stroking the glazed bowl. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth and his heart thumps strangely, thinking of the words to say that wouldn’t betray his whole heart, as secret and deep as he kept it. 

“If you think it’s Thorin who sent me, you’re bloody wrong. I avoid him,” Nori sniffs and strokes his braided beard, knowing Fíli was looking at him now but he refused to meet his gaze. 

“Then why? I know you hate me, and you have every right to, but…,” I still like you around. Fíli stares on obstinately, quelling his blush at his inward thoughts. 

A few minutes pass and still Nori will not look at him, so he looks back out to the gold again, wondering if his heart would eat him up, destroy him somehow with this relentless hoping. He figures it wouldn’t take long. 

“I don’t hate you,” Nori replies, finally, but it’s soft and subdued, yet it echoes in Fíli’s ears. 

Before he realizes, a lopsided smile jumps to his mouth, silly and petty though it was, Fíli felt a small flame lick at his insides, like a soft sort of happiness through the darkness he faces. “I don’t hate you, either,” he says in response, looking over at him tentatively. 

Nori catches his gaze and Fíli is still amazed how his eyes go so wide, ensnared, and he smiles. Just because Nori is rather handsome in that moment, hair red and long down his back, his nose a comely shape and beard braided and immaculate, along with his stunningly sharp eyes. Fíli’s heart flutters a little because Nori is looking right back, and something passes and settles between that had been waiting too long, and its surprisingly comfortable. 

Their shared gaze is broken when they’re called to bed by Balin, and before Nori can get up to stride around the bench, Fíli swears he catches Nori smiling at him. He stands to follow, bowl clutched in his hands. 

.

Fíli would be a liar if he said he didn’t watch Nori carefully. Not only was he conjuring images of the thief bent over a particular bench, curled in his arms or pressed against a wall, but it was also because he notices very quickly how Thorin watches him. His gaze was cold and malicious, mouth curled in a snarl every time Nori came around, and Fíli felt obligated to see what Thorin thought he was seeing, mostly for Nori’s sake. 

That is, until he realizes that Thorin was watching all of them just as closely, even Fíli. He kept hearing him mutter things under his breath like ‘I am betrayed’, ‘they’re not looking hard enough’, ‘one of them has it’, and various other paranoid phrases that only grew more alarming as the days went by. Fíli was beyond concerned, watching his uncle slip further into his madness and jealousy. More than once he found himself the center-point of Thorin’s ire when he defied him, standing up for the one Thorin chose to pick on, but he endured it. He closed his heart away and he endured it though it pained him. 

But, sometimes at night, Nori would find him and insist on dragging him somewhere. Kíli would tag along and Ori too, and they would go and discover old and dusty places that hadn’t seen light for decades. Most of the places they went were still intact, just the way the Dwarves left them when Smaug attacked. Dinner tables still set, dishes in the cupboards, books and ledgers laid open and blankets tossed over the backs of chairs. More than once they came across dead and dried bodies, alone or in heaps, and they always said a quiet word of safe travels in their secret tongue. They left everything untouched, leaving it all for when their fate was more certain, or for their descendents to reclaim and collect and mourn. 

Once, when they were supposed to be searching for the Arkenstone, Nori led Fíli away to a far room, the prince protesting. “No, we can’t, we have to look more or Thorin will be angry,” he whispers in a harsh tone, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching them go. Nobody would tell, but still. 

Nori only scoffs. “He can shove that stone up his arse for all I care. I want you to see this.”

At that Fíli was only slightly consoled because he felt the same, but he was also a little flattered that he was thought of. The room Nori led him down into was dry and dark, but Nori was able to turn up an oil lamp, holding it aloft to illuminate the room. 

Along the high walls were swords hung up delicately, jeweled and glittering, some thick and broad, others slender and intricate. Fíli’s mouth fell open at the sight of all of them, realizing it was a vault for these prized swords and blades, stepping forward to see more. There were blades of all sizes and lengths and designs and colors, lining the walls in their deadly beauty. Nori watches on, smiling faintly as Fíli was wordlessly caressing his fingers along the hilts and scabbards, lips moving to unformed words. Warmth comes unbidden to Nori’s blood and settles in his heart, trickling down his spine to his hips. 

Hesitantly, so hesitantly, Fíli wraps his fingers around a thick hilt and puts his other hand on the scabbard to lift it carefully from the hooks. He grasps the scabbard and barely pulls the blade out, checking for rust, but it slides smoothly from its sheath with a pleasant shhh. Holding the blade up in the light, he inspects the metal work and the edge, twisting it about in the air in practiced arches, footwork careful and precise, seeming lost in his own place as Nori watches, content. He sees a hint of a smile on the prince’s face and a glitter to his eyes he had not seen in weeks, and it is comforting. 

The moment passes too quickly, Fíli sheathing the sword and putting it back in its place delicately and respectfully. He turns and gifts Nori with a brilliant smile that has the thief tingling. 

“Thank you,” Fíli says, and bows belatedly. Nori blushes and scoffs at the misplaced respect, waving his hand. 

“I just thought you would like it. Don’t be like that, it’s embarrassing,” he says with a sharp laugh, turning to leave.

“Like what?” Fíli grins impishly. “Like this, Lord Nori?” he runs ahead and crosses an arm behind his back, holding out the other hand to help him up the short flight of stairs like a gentledwarf would do. 

Nori stops before the steps, giving Fíli his best exasperated glare, trying his damnest not to burst out laughing. “I’m going to kill you if you keep it up, I’m serious.”

Fíli purses his lips together, snorting behind his beard and trying to keep a straight face. “Lord Nori, I mean no disrespect.”

“I’m not a lord!” Nori protests, walking past Fíli on the stairs and hiding his grin in his beard. 

“But you’re one of the richest Dwarves in Middle-earth, you’ve earned the titles,” Fíli says cheerfully, hopping to catch up with Nori’s quick strides. The thief answers with a guffaw, shoving the lamp into Fíli’s arms. 

“Me, a lord? You may be a prince but it doesn’t mean you act the part,” Nori retorts, relieved his blush was finally receding. 

Fíli hitches a shoulder and tilts his head thoughtfully. “Alright, you have a point. But being a lord must sound pretty nice, aye?”

Nori slows his pace, letting Fíli catch up to him. He doesn’t respond for a moment, letting it sink in, before he replies, “Just Nori is fine with me.”

Fíli’s smile is less mischievous and more soft, his eyes warm. “Then I’m just Fíli.”

Nori might have laughed if he didn’t feel so revered in that moment, the prince looking at him and making him feel more special than he ought to. “Alright,” he says, and continues walking. 

.

When Bard comes to the gate and consults with Thorin, Fíli knows it’s only a matter of time. The Men would demand their promised portion and they would be turned away empty-handed because his uncle, his uncle who always preached about duty and honor, could not keep his word. He was so succumbed in his sickness he would have needless bloodshed for a pile of gold and gems. Fíli had been up on the ramparts with Kíli when they let the raven fly east with Thorin’s missive to the Iron Hills, and far over in Dale he could see the Elvish banners of the Woodland Realm. Along with the Men, there would be Elves, and Dain may not arrive in time when they march upon the Mountain, arrows notched and swords raised. Their slaughter was imminent, all over this cursed hoard. Though he signed up on this quest, promising to give his life if need be, but he didn’t think it would be tossed to the wind so easily, by his uncle no less. 

Kíli sat with him but didn’t say much, and he was sometimes good like that. He knew when Fíli didn’t want to talk and was always ready when he did. Fíli kept his mouth shut against the biting wind, letting it pull at his hair and tunic and chill his skin, allowing his thoughts to wanders in deep places. Faintly he hears Kíli say he was leaving with a hand upon his shoulder and to call if anything was amiss, and then he was gone, Fíli left alone to brood on his fate. 

Yes, he signed up on this doomed quest and that he knew now for certain. Once, he thought Thorin would not succumb, that maybe it would be him instead, that they would see Erebor restored in honor and free from bloodshed. He realizes now that was wishful thinking in its fullest, and he feels all the more foolish for it. Maybe he would laugh at himself in hindsight when this was all finished, that is if he lived to see it. He finds it hard to imagine himself as a prince, or even a king, and Kíli even less so. He’s not sure he’s ready for that mantle, not even sure if he ever will be. 

He thinks of the gold and its corrupting nature, stealing his uncle away from him, and how he could fall into that sickness one day also. Fíli prays that his heart is stout enough to resist, that he has Kíli as a support. He would be in sore need of him, should the future come to be, in all things. He would always need Kíli. But with battle imminent, his fate uncertain, he is not so sure, and it pains his heart to ever think about death, to anyone. He ignores those thoughts as best he can. 

Then he thinks about Rivendell, of Nori, and that encounter that could have gone leagues better. He remembers his poor assumptions and feels like a right arse, knowing now just how utterly wrong he was. Even now, thinking about the thief’s face, his arms, how he would smile and how everything about him made Fíli’s heart thud in his chest, especially when he looked upon him with those keen gray eyes. It was thrilling and maddening all at once, this flittering to his heart. Fíli would not fall for gold, but he would willingly for copper. Bright, long and smooth copper hair, running through his fingers like silk. 

And that told him all he needed to know. 

After asking about, Fíli found him on a low balcony in the gold halls, a long sheet of red silk draped through his elbows behind his back, sorting through a chest of fine jewelry and tossing them about carelessly. He stops and watches for a moment, listening to his humming tune and the sifting of precious metal and gems before him. He notices Nori neglected to fully complete his hairstyle this morning, flatter now but still thick, his braid a long rope down to the small of his back. 

Nori’s humming stops slowly, and he says without looking over his shoulder, “I know you’re there, princeling.” 

It sends a smile to Fíli’s face, but when Nori starts turning around it catches. His courage wavers and he feels skittish, nervous now. Nori was beautiful. Everything about him seems normal, his hair only longer, dressed in a light jerkin and tunic that had both seen better days, silk draped through his arms, but maybe it was the light casting on him, or the mirrors on the walls, but all that be damned, he was beautiful and he glowed. Why hadn’t Fíli thought of the words before?

His mouth goes dry and his throat feels oddly tight as he lowers his eyes, feeling almost unworthy to gaze upon him. He takes the last few steps to the balcony and wipes his sweaty palms on his trousers. Curse me and my foolishness, he thinks, trying to act casual with Nori watching him so strangely and closely. 

“I wasn’t trying to be sneaky this time,” Fíli finally manages to say, allowing a smile to rise to his mouth, pulling at his beard. Nori only raises a braided eyebrow and turns back to continue his sifting. 

“I have to wonder where half of this stuff comes from. Your great-grandfather had weird tastes,” Nori comments, holding up a brooch of a goose curled in a circle, sapphires in its eyes and nostrils far too pronounced, smiling wickedly with its wings stretched and oddly angled. 

Fíli snorts and shakes his head. “I never knew him, so I have not a clue,” he answers, looking around the chests and shelves with him. 

Countless times Fíli nearly brings himself to say anything he means to, his real purpose for being here, but each time his stomach knots or Nori talks first and he is too shy to begin again. They spend a few hours searching the balcony fruitlessly, showing each other strange or interesting things, laughing and joking about them, wasting too much time for Thorin’s taste but it doesn’t matter. Fíli knows he must say something before it’s too late, else his heart would be lost to the void and he may never have the chance again.  
Overcoming a sudden wave of fear, he finally blurts, “Nori.”

The thief was just about to descend the stairs and Fíli is relieved he had caught him in time. Instead, Nori walks back, the silk still dropping from his forearms, and he waits. Fíli twists his hands together and takes a great heaving sigh, walking to the balustrade. “Stay, would you? Just… just for a moment.”

Fully curious now, Nori nods silently but doesn’t come within two feet of Fíli and he knows this. He knew if he was any closer he might have lost his courage entirely so he was glad for the small amount of space. 

Breath shuddering, he begins. “Back in the Misty Mountains, in the cave, we agreed that what happened in Rivendell was a mistake,” Fíli keeps his gaze ahead, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I wanted it to be. I barely even liked you. But… now. I have to rescind from that agreement. I cannot believe it was a mistake. I do not want it to be. It was wrongly done, yes, I was too rough, I didn’t ask…” 

Cautiously, he spares a glance sideways and sees Nori staring out across the gold piles, his brow creased, but he had taken a closer step. Fíli’s grip is tight on the stone railing and his shoulders shake and his voice might tremble but he continues. “Despite that… I still think of that time. I still think of you. More often than I should, too deeply perhaps.”

Fíli swallows and pushes off form the balustrade. “I wanted to tell you that before we run off into uncertain fates.” Barely, it was hardly even a graze, he touches his fingers to Nori’s shoulder hoping he would turn and look and see the meaning and depth he hopes he was conveying. 

Slowly, hesitantly and timidly, Nori does turn. He doesn’t look up right away, his eyes roaming Fíli’s chest and behind him, to the floor, anywhere but his face. Though his wandering eyes set a fire to his bones, Fíli wants to see that sharp gray look for himself and see what lay in his eyes. He yearns for it beyond anything so he puts one finger on Nori’s chin, just on his beard, and presses upward, and he finally looks up at him. 

Nori is entirely uncertain, but not apprehensive, not reluctant, only surprisingly and mildly nervous and careful. He turns a little more, facing him now, and though it wasn’t much Fíli felt like it was a miracle because he had been certain Nori would do anything but, like run or scowl at him or even laugh. But he has not. Fíli fights the stinging in his eyes and the dryness of his throat before speaking. 

“I just wanted you to know that, that it wasn’t a mistake. Not for me,” his voice comes raspy and quiet but it sounds louder than the beating of Smaug’s wings to his ears. Fíli takes an indulgent and blissful moment to search Nori’s eyes for anything he could see, before turning to leave. 

A pair of hands grasp his tunic before he goes too far. “Fíli,” Nori breathes, almost frantic. Fíli turns back and sees that the timidity and hesitance is gone but the uncertainty still lingers in every feature of his face and in every shade of his eyes. Fíli doesn’t mind because he feels it keenly also, thrumming in his heart and across his skin when Nori grasps his tunic tighter, pulling him forward. 

Nori lays his palms on Fíli’s broad chest, so close now, maybe searching for a heartbeat below his ribs, eyes flicking across his exposed collarbone. Shakily, he takes a breath, “Not for me, either. It wasn’t a mistake.”

If his heart could beat any faster, it does, thudding in his chest like a drum, hammering in his ears like his head were an anvil. He feels Nori’s heat, his strength, his solid form, right in front of him, so close and tangible and unhindered. Gingerly, Fíli lifts his hands to grasp his jaw on either side, marveling in the softness of his beard, nervousness coursing through his blood when he is allowed to touch. Nori doesn’t jerk away, but he does curl his fingers into his tunic, barely grazing his skin and that’s when Fíli breaks. He leans his head down and Nori lifts his for a deep, warming kiss. It’s firm but unassuming, passionate and yet subdued, and it sends shivers through their bodies at once. 

Nori sighs into the kiss welcomingly when a new angle is found, sliding his arms around Fíli’s broad shoulders that he had admired for so long. Fíli kisses him tenderly this time, his lips soft and precise instead of nipping and hurried. He finds it rather dizzying, getting lost against the prince’s solid form and his mouth tasting faintly of pipeweed. Fíli slackens against him when Nori weaves his fingers into his long blond hair. 

Fíli pulls away and rests his forehead against Nori’s almost too soon, moving his hands to grasp his shoulder and the nape of his neck. “Nori,” he breathes reverently, closing his eyes. “Nori, I—,” 

“Don’t say it,” he interrupts, suddenly feeling a knot in his throat, knowing his oncoming words that frankly shook him to his core. “Not yet. Later, tell me later,” he nearly whispers, wishing for this to last because for once he feels unburdened and light, protected, and yet tears come unbidden to his eyes. “Don’t say it, not yet, later…,” 

Fíli quiets his trembling whispers with another kiss, wrapping his arms under his shoulders. Nori didn’t need to hear what Fíli was going to say because he could feel it, the way his palm rested flat and warm between his shoulder blades, pressing him closer, and the way he stroked his other hand down the length of his braid. It was so tender and intimate, Nori finally realizes that he had desired this, in any form, so he finds he cannot resist, cannot make Fíli go faster or rougher. He is thrumming pleasantly down to his toes and he doesn’t want it to stop. 

Nori parts Fíli’s lips with a soft swipe of his tongue, pleased that Fíli is so eager to kiss him just how he likes, tasting his mouth and exploring. Fíli pulls him closer with his hands on his back and Nori bends into him, running his fingers down the back of Fíli’s neck and across his shoulders to make him absolutely shiver. Nori delights in his reaction, kissing him deeper and Fíli responds a little more intently, fingers now kneading into his back, holding his waist. 

When Nori moves his mouth to press kisses along Fíli’s beard, he is panting closed-eyed and blissful, and hums when Nori’s mouth finds a tender spot on his neck. “Oh, Nori…,” he sighs, and its gusts across Nori’s hair, his voice deep and gravelly in his throat. 

Somehow, without having to need words to understand, Nori says after sucking a small spot into his skin, breathlessly, “Lay me down.” He catches Fíli’s bright and livid eyes then, a jolt stuttering through him straight to his groin. 

Fíli’s strength is proved wonderfully again when he snakes an arm behind Nori’s shoulders and the other around his waist, tipping him forward and kneeling to the velvety rugs, Nori safe in his grasp. Fíli kneels and hovers above him, the thief now able to raise his knees and press his thighs to the prince’s hips when they kiss harder and deeper. Fíli’s fingers tangle in Nori’s hair behind his ears and he can’t help a keening sigh, tugging at Fíli’s tunic, pressing his hips lower. He feels his hardness against his hip and he smiles inwardly, canting his hips upward indicatively. 

Fíli licks at his lips before pulling away, knowing at once what Nori means by his squirming. “Are you alright?” he asks carefully, moving his hands to the floor beside Nori’s ribs to steady himself. 

“Yes,” he replies meaningfully, his breath coming short, and Fíli can’t help a small smile. He lowers his mouth to Nori’s neck underneath his beard and kisses and licks simultaneously just to see his reaction, and is mightily pleased when he clutches at Fíli’s back, pressing his knees further into his sides. 

He trails his mouth downward, savoring every little sigh and gasp, teasing his fingers up the hem of Nori’s tunic. When his chilled fingers reach the warm skin above his trousers, Nori jerks unexpectedly but it’s alright because it causes his groin to nudge against Fíli’s thigh, hard and prominent. Fíli shimmies the tunic upward, Nori having to raise his shoulders to get it removed, but once he tosses it away Fíli immediately looks down in awe. 

Nori is slender and lithe beneath him but still lined with muscle, reddish hair across his chest and tapering down his abdomen. There are rings in each of his nipples, small but still noticeable, and at the sight a surge of flaring hot desire courses through Fíli. Tentatively and experimentally, he lowers his mouth to one, pulling the bud and ring into his mouth, the metal clacking against his teeth, and he is so tremendously delighted when Nori hums a quiet moan. The thief raises himself on his elbows and opens his eyes to watch the blond prince tease the nipple ring with his tongue, his fingers of one hand now playing with the other, and oh if that isn’t utterly arousing. 

After a few minutes of Fíli enjoying himself and Nori wiggling his hips, the prince removes his mouth and grins widely at the thief above him. “I like these,” he says almost giddily, his thumbs rolling over his nipples again. Nori lets loose a breathless laugh, more pleased than he would say that Fíli was so enthusiastic, and a touch flattered. 

Fíli presses kisses down his chest, soft and whiskery at once, his nose grazing his skin as he lowers. Nori is dizzy watching him, marveling at how his hands are so rough and sure across his belly, watching how his hair falls from his shoulders in waves. He almost couldn’t believe he was real, that maybe he was in a dream, that his groin wasn’t absolutely throbbing and pressing into his trousers. But when Fíli’s palm cups him there and he kneads, the gasp stuttering out of his throat is real, the prince’s fingers tracing the length of him against his thigh is real, and the moan punching out of his gut is most certainly real. 

Fíli presses lingering kisses to his lower belly and hips, loosening the ties to Nori’s trousers as he does so, curling his fingers under the hem. Nori screws his eyes shut and bites his lip when his trousers and smalls are slowly pulled down, raising his hips just so. He sighs long and low when Fíli presses his lips firmly to his hard length bobbing against his belly, still pulling his trousers off when he gives a soft swipe of his tongue to the underside. 

If Nori whines when he opens his eyes he doesn’t think much of it, only how pretty Fíli looks between his legs, the lad’s lashes dark and long against his cheeks, his blond hair grazing his thighs. When Fíli takes the flushed tip of him between those reddened lips, Nori bites back a keening groan, wanting nothing more than to be swallowed deep but the grip on his trousers keeps him still. Fíli is able to easily bob his head just so, taking Nori’s cock just a bit deeper, and the way the thief squirms is very appealing. He doesn’t do it for long, however, pulling away and sitting back onto his heels, taking Nori’s boots and socks off. He grins proudly at the way Nori narrows his eyes at him, his cheeks flushed and stare a tad unfocused. 

“I want to ease into this, unlike last time,” Fíli explains, pulling his trousers off completely. “To make it good.” 

Nori huffs impatiently, his heart tittering a little excitedly. “Get on with it,” he says and it comes off harsher than he means to, but Fíli’s lopsided grin doesn’t falter. And his hands on his knees don’t go lower where he wants them to, so he adds, “Please.”

Fíli’s eyes are soft and something like affectionate before he lowers his head again, shutting his eyes and wrapping a loose hand around the root of him. Nori almost shouts when Fíli swallows him down, tongue and lips firm and wet when he starts without preamble, fist twisting gentle wonders and Nori’s hips twitch involuntarily. His mouth is agape and panting, spreading his legs apart wide and slackening into the carpets. Fíli is too good at this, he thinks, his thighs already trembling and toes tingling, watching dazedly as Fíli bobs his head and curls his fingers around him, his other hand smoothing down the inside of his thigh and around to his arse, over his hips and belly. 

A coiled spring in Nori’s gut is threatening to release, so before it does, he takes Fíli’s tunic by his shoulder and pulls him away. Fíli surges forward and takes Nori’s invitation for a hungry but pleasantly deep kiss, falling across his body and licking into his mouth, which the thief does eagerly in return. 

He is being rolled onto his back but doesn’t complain when Nori straddles his hips and his quick fingers beginning to untie his jerkin and tunic. He is bereft of the offending clothing soon enough, still being kissed fiercely and thoroughly when Nori begins on his trousers. Meagerly, in between kisses, Fíli says, “Oil?”

Nori replies breathlessly, teeth grazing against Fíli’s lower lip. “Trousers.”

Fíli smirks as he sits up, reaching for the grey and soft trousers he had removed from Nori’s legs, the thief taking his own off after yanking his boots off. He is flattered and excited by Nori’s willingness, and even more so when his hand wraps around his girth and pumps. “O-Oh!” Fíli gasps, nearly dropping the same vial of oil that was used before. 

Then Nori is leaning down and sucking and swallowing him down and he gasps and moans in surprise, tilting his head back and panting. He was hardly prepared for it, his hot and wet mouth and tongue firmly twisting around the sensitive ridges, small licks up his underside, fist pulling just so. Still holding the vial, hands far too idle, Fíli uncorks it and puts a little oil on his fingers, rubbing them together to coat them completely before reaching forward to Nori’s slightly raised arse. Nori gives a small noise of reply when he feels Fíli stroking in between his cheeks, gingerly circling over his entrance, too teasing. He pushes his hips backwards, sucking a little deeper and harder in retribution to get what he wants, and the prince barely bites back a moan. 

Nori, however, is unprepared when Fíli delves a thick finger into him and starts pumping without warning, making Nori pull away to groan outwardly. Fíli grins at his response but doesn’t relent, his other hand stroking all along Nori’s smooth back and the thief goes back to work on his cock. After a few long and blissful minutes, Nori sits up, removing Fíli’s fingers, and kisses him again, digging his fingers into his blond hair and sitting across his thighs. 

In this way it’s easy for Fíli to fit two digits into Nori, and he is pleased when he starts rocking onto them, slowly at first, unhurried as they tilt their heads and brush noses, kissing intently still. Nori weaves his fingers through blond hair, rubbing his scalp and neck in places to make the prince shiver and melt. When Fíli slides a third finger inside, Nori moans into his mouth and rocks a little faster, swiveling his hips just so, cock grazing through the hair on Fíli’s belly, the prince’s own girth wonderfully warm and firm between his legs.  
Nori is near whimpering by the time he’s ready, and Fíli doesn’t waste any time slicking more oil on his length, taking Nori’s hips as he raises himself on his knees. The thief guides him in, gasping at the unnamable stretch and the sensation of being filled, this time with care and tenderness. He sinks slowly, not for pain but because Fíli is thick and perfect, so perfect, and he wants to savor it. 

The way Fíli moans deeply when Nori sits fully seated is more than he could ask for, kissing him and all his wonderfulness, wrapping his arms about his shoulders before rolling his hips. “Oh, gods, Nori…,” Fíli gasps, his hands sliding up his sides, and the sound is beautiful. 

Nori only has the chance to swivel his hips a little more, rising and lowering, before Fíli carefully brings him backward to the floor. With his legs wrapped up and around his hips, crossing his ankles, Nori absolutely whines when Fíli heaves into him, over and over and so smoothly. 

Last time, in Rivendell, Fíli was only a little disappointed when Nori hardly made any noise, and if any they were muffled into his arms. Fíli himself wasn’t very loud either, mostly praying they wouldn’t be caught and exposed, swallowing them down. But now, where it didn’t matter, where they wouldn’t be caught, it was different. Fíli was surprised at the way Nori whined, how it was so beautiful and needy, surprised how Nori dug his fingers into his back and arched into him like he couldn’t get enough. It was so lovely and encouraging, Fíli found himself being noisier than usual, and Nori seemed to hardly mind at all, eyes glazed and lips parted. Mostly, however, Fíli wanted to wring the whimpers and groans from Nori, to hear him say his name at least once because he desired to know what it sounded like in his mouth with such pleasure. 

Goal in mind, Fíli thrusts harder, tweaking Nori’s nipples and burying his nose into his auburn hair, grazing his teeth along his ear. Nori arches into him with a breathy shout, fingers tangling into his hair and pulling only slightly. 

It was when Fíli was about to come undone that he heard it; it was soft and small like he was telling a secret, wrapped up in a moan. “Fíli… ohh, Fíli,” Nori whispers, his breath coming in pants. 

It was perfect. He came open mouthed, thrusting faster to chase it to the last, gripping Nori’s shoulders and shuddering down to his toes. Then, he watches as Nori bites his lip and throws his head back, arching and tensing, warmth now flooding between them. Fíli smiles weakly as he watches Nori’s pleasure abate, glowing beautifully in a copper haze, sweat damp across his brow but it didn’t matter. Fíli drops his head and kisses him softly and languidly, both trembling from the dissipating excitement in their veins, the cool air ghosting across their skin, lips swollen and red but it’s lovely and tender. 

Nori lifts a hand and shakily brushes strands of golden hair away from Fíli’s damp forehead, a sudden rush of affection that he usually hid after such acts overcoming him, but he figures it would be foolish. Fíli had been good to him, physical and otherwise, and it might have also been the best coupling yet but he wouldn’t admit that aloud. Tentatively and unsure, he finds himself pressing a kiss to Fíli’s brow, smoothing his hair down his sweaty back. He feels embarrassed for showing such affection, but Fíli’s arms circle tightly around his shoulders and he thinks it’s alright. 

“We’re going to live through this, and I’m going to tell you,” Fíli says, now suddenly serious, lifting his head and looking into Nori’s eyes, mere inches away. “I will. I promise you. And I’ll mean it.” 

Fíli is steadfast and sure when he speaks, a certain crease to his brow, and Nori almost believes him. The living part, he is not so sure. But he nods anyway, hand still splayed over his soft silken hair, and he manages a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Fíli smiles in return, his eyes unbearably blue, and he kisses him one more time. 

.

Fear tastes like an iron weight on his tongue even as he screams past it, charging out of Erebor’s front gate. By the third or fourth orc (goblin? What was the difference?) he has forgotten about it, now it’s only his life or the enemy’s, and he has been lucky so far. Soon it becomes easy, hacking and swinging and kicking and punching, it becomes thoughtless, his axe held in a vice grip in his mailed fists. The reeking smell of blood and burning flesh goes unnoticed as he fights forward, stepping over fallen Dwarves and enemies alike, the winter chill stinging his cheeks. 

It’s not easy to keep track of Ori or Dori, or anyone for that matter, he only sees them in glimpses on the battlefield, his companions fighting bravely and fiercely. A part of him is proud of all of them, of Dain’s army, of himself, for taking back Erebor and fighting for it alongside Elves against a common enemy, but another part of him is full of dread and loathing. He feels a foreboding lump in his stomach, something he cannot name but otherwise unpleasant and he does not know why. He could tell something was wrong when the horns on top of Ravenhill cease their blaring, the odd flags crooked and bent. Through the smoke and fog, he cannot see a single figure on the hill when there were orcs before. The lump in his gut grows and his throat tightens. There was something terribly wrong, he knew it. 

When he sees his companions along the high walls of the valley, he knows he must follow. Fighting his way across the battlefield and running like a Dwarf afire, he scrambles on numb feet and too-big boots, arms and legs laden with armor so it is harder to ascend the hilltop. Panting for breath, he climbs a rock, and sees bodies littered broken and bloodied, all orcs. There is still that lump, however, and it gnaws at him until he finds his way to the frozen river. 

There he sees his companions, kneeling on the ice. At the very edge of the waterfall is Thorin, limp, and above him is Bilbo, who cries tears that freeze on his cheeks.  
Nori’s blood runs cold and there is a loud roaring in his ears as he stumbles to his knees. Thorin, who had been so humble to accept such a petty and honorless thief like him on this quest, who had been so stout and formidable against trolls, goblins, Elves and Men, who succumbed helplessly to centuries old blight, only to be revived a better and stronger Dwarf to rally them and lead them into battle. Nori watched as he clung to breath, grasping at the hobbit’s dirtied tunic, his eyes only for him. 

But if Thorin was here, where were Fíli and Kíli? He would not leave them unless need called for it, and they would not leave their uncle willingly to lie in the snow dying. No… they were somewhere else, something happened. 

Nori sprang to his feet, leaving his sword forgotten, Dori’s calls to him falling on deaf ears. A contingent of Elves flies past him, carrying stretchers and some go to attend Thorin. He follows the rest for an unknown reason, mind racing as they twist and turn in the watchtower halls and passages, until they come to a high wall, just below the orc signal flags. Three more branch off and leave to another passage, but Nori stays.

There, in the snow, is Fíli. He lies in a spreading pool of blood that soaks up the snow, blond hair askew and disheveled. 

He cannot bear to breathe, the pain in his chest bursts in flames and it becomes harder and harder to take in the cold air. His vision might have swayed with the dizziness in his head, but he finds himself putting another foot in front of the other though he is numb to it. Fíli. Oh, gods, Fíli, he thinks belatedly, mouth trying to form the words. 

The Elves are discussing in their tongue as they kneel around Fíli, and Nori registers that he should be angry. He leaps forward, throwing two of them aside to kneel next to the prostrate Dwarf they’re circled around. “What are you doing! You should be helping him! Not kneeling and talking about nonsense! He is dying, can’t you see?” he roars forcefully, looking at the three of them in turn. 

Then he realizes what he has said, and a shudder tears through him looking upon Fíli. He doesn’t even see him, staring up at the sky and gasping and gurgling through the blood and blinding pain, chest stuttering even as a dark spot enlarges through his armor. That stupid Dwarf, what was a hauberk to an orc sword? Though Dwarfish craft exceeds much in Middle earth, it can still be pierced, and evidently it has. He should have told him to wear plate, anything…

“We are, Master Dwarf, or trying to. It seems he has fallen from a height, and we are trying to discover if his back is broken, which it seems so. We must be very careful to move him, or it might damage him permanently,” one Elf explains solemnly. Nori’s vision is blurred when he looks at him, but he finds he cannot care. 

“Please, just help him. H-he is dying, please,” Nori pleads shamelessly, tentatively reaching for the mailed glove, almost afraid to touch him like he might kill him even now. 

The Elves begin to move, laying out the stretcher next to Fíli. Carefully, so carefully, they talk to each other in musical syllables to lift one side of Fíli to slide the stretcher underneath, then lift the rest of him simultaneously to slide it further, laying him flat on it. Two of them pick up each end and stand, and at their height Fíli is at Nori’s eye level as he follows them down the hill. Dori and Ori find them and Bofur and Bifur too, and all of their faces pale at the sight of the eldest prince being carried, wounded as he was, to the infirmary tents. Nori scurries to keep up, wiping at his wet cheeks and gasping for air. 

Fíli groans, and it’s a blessed sound to Nori’s ears for he still has breath left in him, left in his wounded lungs. 

The Elves bring him to a tent and another Elf, clad in different robes and bereft of armor strides in, and they talk to them as Nori kneels next to Fíli’s cot. He is pulling off Fíli’s glove just to feel his skin in his hand, and oh how cold it was. Nori babbles things he doesn’t know he’s saying until he sees Fíli’s blond head move to the side and he stops, staring into those brightest blue eyes until his heart hurts. 

“Why… are you… crying? N-… Nori?” Fíli gasps, fingers twitching in Nori’s hand. 

“You’re badly hurt. You fucking stupid idiot! Why didn’t you wear proper armor? You went and hurt yourself so badly, made me chase after you! Stepped off a cliff, did you? Let an orc stab you?” Nori wants to be angry, wants to mean what he says but it falls short. He huffs a laugh and a shaky smile makes its way to his mouth. “You idiot, full of bravery and honor. Damn you to seven hells.” 

Fíli’s lips are pale when he smiles but his eyes are livid and laughing. Behind them or around them, there is that Elf in the robes preparing tools and bandages and water and bottles. They tap Nori’s shoulder and he turns his head to them. “We need to prep him for surgery, Master Dwarf. It is very urgent.”

“One moment, you leaf-eaters,” Nori hisses but he smiles a little, if to get them to leave for a moment more. They do, but don’t linger far. 

“Nori,” Fíli says dryly, trying to swallow past the pain and blood. His other hand comes up and his fingers tremble as he brushes them across Nori’s dirtied cheek, looking deep into those grey eyes that have stolen him away to another place, that have captured his heart entirely. Nori waits for him, gripping his hand tighter, rubbing his fingers into his skin to warm it feebly. 

Fíli blinks slowly, a shaky smile pulling his lips. His beard has flecks of blood and dirt in it and he looks like he had been through a battle indeed, but he is no less beautiful and Nori absolutely trembles. “Ohh, Nori. I love you. I love you,” Fíli whispers, little more than air past his lips, but Nori hears him like his words brought a gale with them. 

_We’re going to live through this, and I’m going to tell you. And I’ll mean it._

Nori grins and presses a kiss to Fíli’s palm, tasting of salt and leather, and tears leak past his eyes to drip onto his hand. “I love you, too. I mean it,” he says incredulously though no less heartfelt. He does, and it eats him alive. He presses another kiss into his hand, and then finally to Fíli’s cheeks and eyes and then his lips, cold as they were. 

“Master Dwarf?” the Elf says to the side. “I need you to leave, now, if you please.” 

Nori slowly brings his head around, and glares at the Elf. They have his love’s life in their hands, and they had better know it. 

“You will fix him, aye? Keep him alive, if you please, because you will regret it if you don’t. I will remember your face,” Nori says curtly, and looks at Fíli again. His eyes are drooping and he still has a lopsided smile on his face as Nori stands. He leans down to press a kiss to his forehead, just because he can. 

Nori hates walking out of the tent, but when he does, the sun breaks through the clouds and filters through the smoke, and as the warmth reaches him, it feels like a weight has been lifted.


End file.
